


Black

by Slumber



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Infidelity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-13
Updated: 2011-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:00:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26406892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slumber/pseuds/Slumber
Summary: It is late.
Relationships: Terry Boot/Justin Finch-Fletchley
Collections: 30-minute Writer's Block Challenge





	Black

**Author's Note:**

> A once-written drabble, revisited.

When they ask, Terry is the happiest he's ever been. His eyes light up, he finds it hard to resist the tugging of a devoted smile on the corner of his lips, and his tone turns shy.

Lisa laughs, pinches his cheeks. How in love you are, she says, before dropping some self-deprecating comment about her own search for love.

I'm really happy for you, Mandy tells him, smiling wistfully herself as she looks into the eyes of her fiance. 

Glad it's working out, mate, Michael says, when they are alone for a moment and the others are busy talking about the good old days and where they are and what they're up to these days. For a moment, Michael says, and here his voice trails off, hesitation sneaks into his tone, and that's when Terry will smile ever brighter, ever happier. 

I'm happy, he says, and he means it then.

*

When Justin asks, Terry is fine the way things are. He's open-minded, he knows that he cannot have it the way most others have it. Justin does adore him, he says so himself, when he comes home feeling playful and tugging Terry into the bathtub or the shower or the kitchen table or--heaven forbid, but it really did happen that one time and he'll never be able to admit it to anyone else, not even on pain of death, his parents' bedroom when he and Justin were house-sitting that one time.

It's just the way Justin is, though, and it's one of the reasons Terry loves him so much. Somehow he is able to bring out the best in Terry. He can draw Terry out like no one can, coax him to do things he otherwise wouldn't even want to do, because Justin loves life and lives it the way Terry can only read about most other days, on Justin-less moments, and for that he is grateful.

And he appreciates Terry, he says so himself. What did I ever do to get as lucky as I did, Justin wonders out loud many times, when Terry makes him breakfast in bed or cooks him up his favorite meal or takes him on an impromptu trip to Ibiza (because, as Terry explains, it seemed like something you would do, and don't you want to go?). Terry only laughs, because Justin didn't do anything and he isn't that lucky, so he should stop trying to flatter Terry as if that will get him anywhere because it won't--and then Terry gives up, because at this point Justin is already nuzzling at his neck, his hand is already wandering into places it shouldn't go (not when they're out in public, at least).

*

When he asks himself, Terry is content. He will hum through life as he is and take things as they are. He lives in a decent two-bedroom, has enough galleons in savings, has a boyfriend who adores him.

He spends his time doing spontaneous things that are often Justin's ideas, gardens in his free time even though he has whatever the opposite of green thumbs is, and reads whatever books are on sale at Flourish and whatever catches his eyes whenever he wanders about the city. 

Some days he will wake up to an empty bed, some days he will sleep by himself, but that's just par for the course and whoever said fairy tales had to be the exact same happily-ever-after ending for everyone didn't really know what they were talking about. 

He flips the page of his current read and contemplates turning the light off for the night and working by the glow of his wand instead. The ink is beginning to bleed through the pages and blur into mumbo-jumbo that his brain is having a hard time processing so he sets his book down for a little bit, rubs his temples and squints. There is a dull throbbing in his head and the bitter aftertaste of an argument at the back of his throat, neither of which he can will away or cure with any one of the potions in the bathroom cabinet. He sighs and slips out of bed, tying his robes around his waist as he pads through the bedroom to look out the window.

He doesn't know what time Justin comes back home tonight. He doesn't know if he plans to. 

What Terry knows is this: that when Justin comes home later, or at all, he will reek of alcohol and cigarette smoke, words slurring with apologies and babble while he stumbles into the room, stubs his toe against the dresser, kicking it and cursing it for being there despite it never having moved from its spot since they moved in over a year ago. He will fill the heavy silence with his voice, lilting and giggly, and when he realizes Terry is not talking he will look to him with wide, sorry eyes.

He will apologize to Terry, wrap his arms around Terry's shoulders and attempt to placate him with the smell of other men clinging to his clothes and his lips and his skin, pleading his case and throwing himself at Terry's mercy. 

He _is_ sorry, Terry knows that for sure. He always is, and this is why he finds it difficult not to forgive him. Because what is he supposed to do? Justin is the love of his life and loving Justin means loving every part of him, even the ones that Terry wishes desperately he didn't have to have.

Doesn't it?

From down the street he can see a lamp light flickering as a figure stumbles down the concrete. Despite himself Terry does feel that little flutter of affection, along with a pang of anger. He moves back to the bed and crawls beneath the sheets. Justin will be coming in any second.

It is late, and Terry is as blind as the night.

**Author's Note:**

> Please consider donating to local organizations who support trans individuals in your area.


End file.
